The Writings of a Ghostly Mind
by Moss Royal
Summary: A collection of different DP characters thoughts on their pasts and daily lives, afterlife or otherwise.
1. What's a Hero To Do?

Hi! I'm back! Thanks to all who've read and reviewed my previous stories, and to those who haven't yet, please do! I'd love some more feedback! This is just a poetry thing, so no real fights or distinct plots.

**Disclaimer**: Butch Hartman owns DP.

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If you wish your life to be protected, you must protect the lives of others...

Danny phased into his bedroom, stumbling as he motioned towards his bed. He lay down, mulling over all that had just transpired and absorbing all his injuries. He had bruises everywhere, a limp on his right leg and a big, bitter gash under his lip. But the wounds were nothing compared to his state of mind. After all, a weary body, especially a half-ghost body, healed quickly enough. But a weary mind and soul were far more difficult to repair.

"They're getting smarter," he muttered hoarsely, closing his eyes, "stronger too."

He'd been down in the dumps before, but not like this. He was contemplating all of it, all of his second life or afterlife, but who can keep that all straight and stay sane about it? Every day, every week was becoming a haunting replay of the one before it. A ghost shows up, they fight, he barely wins, sucks them back to the Ghost Zone and then it goes on again the next day. Again and again...and again.

_The battle never ends_

_The evil never stops_

_One of these days they'll get me_

_And then my ball will drop_

And the infuriating part was that there was no way to stop it. He could destroy his parents' Ghost Portal, but that wouldn't do anything but make it worse for him. There were dozens, if not hundreds of ways for the ghosts to come back to the human world, not to mention Vlad's portal, and since old age was hardly a factor for a ghost, it would go on forever.

At this epiphany, Danny's bloodshot eyes shot open. They were unlimited in their time, but what about him? He could only fight them for so long before his own mortality caught up with him. Then what would he do? Pass it on to his children and put them in danger? No. He'd never be able to live with forcing that kind of task onto an innocent. His transformation was a forgivable accident, and if any half-ghosts were formed after him, it would be from an accident, too.

_My brain is racked from pondering_

_When the time comes, what will I do?_

_There must be one to stop the darkness_

_One to save both old and youths_

But what would happen when he did die? Would he rest in peace with the knowledge that he'd saved countless lives? Or would he become a pure ghost and continue his crusade until the city was truly safe? Did he even have the power that decision? When he came to his judgment, would he have the choice to go between peace and justice?

Justice. That was what he fought for, wasn't it? At first, it had been a kind of hobby, something that set him apart from any other teenager. Heck, it set him apart from every other human, save one. And he couldn't deny that he'd used his powers for vengeance or relief before. Whether against Dash Baxter, or the Box Ghost or just some poor, otherworldly sap that was at the wrong place at the wrong time, he'd had his share of revenge fights. But now, he realized that when he heard someone cry out for help it was like a fire alarm in his head, "I gotta help them!" It just came so naturally now that he didn't even think about it. So far he'd been lucky. No innocent person had lost their life when he had been on patrol, but what about the battles to come? What if the ghosts got wise and started taking hostages to have him walk right into their hands?

_Their cries are like a screech to me_

_Their lives are always at risk_

_With enemies who no longer care_

_How am I to resist?_

He would never let that happen. He had to ensure the people's safety and make sure that no ghosts got to them. But how? He had seen a world where he had all but eradicated his ghostly enemies and that only made them stronger, smarter and even more vengeful.

"So what do I do?" Danny whispered to himself. "Be friendly to them?"

That'd never work. His enemies were too bitter and obsessed to ever give up their jilted causes and goals. Some wanted power like Ember or Technus; some wanted superiority like Skulker; some wanted to make up for what they'd lost like Spectra, Bertrand and Desiree.

And Vlad? He was no challenge to figure out. He claimed to love Maddie, his mother, but in reality, Vlad only loved himself. Danny supposed that to a certain extent Vlad did care for her, but it was more the matter of not having her that plagued Vlad, having lost him to Danny's bumbling father, Jack Fenton. But it didn't stop at Maddie's unreturned love; Vlad heard of Pariah Dark's power, he had to have it. Danny had his friends who helped him in his fights; Vlad had to have them too. Both Valerie Grey and the Fright Knight were his loyal soldiers, though Valerie knew only half of who her mentor truly was. And Danny couldn't prove it, but he was sure that Vlad had some hand in Valerie's loss of high school status.

_What is it that drives these dead ones?_

_What horrors could they have had?_

_To bring about the pain and fear_

_That makes their victims feel so bad_

That was the really disturbing thing about Danny's opponents: Almost all of them had been human once, too. Mind you, some had surely been equally big creeps in their lifetimes like Johnny 13 or Technus. It was extremely hard for Danny to imagine those two with any other mannerisms than cocky, rude and self-absorbed. But he knew some had had horrible lives and were trying to turn things around. Desiree had had her dreams squashed for doing nothing wrong, and Poindexter had been bullied and abused most of his life. As much trouble as they'd caused him, he couldn't help but pity them. How can a life be so bad that you try to make up for it in the afterlife? It was depressing, but he knew it was possible. And there were others, of course, that he knew next to nothing about, besides there current status. But it's not like he could ask them. He should think that most of them, especially power-hungry ones like Ember or Technus, probably have lives that they just want to leave behind and forget.

_The faded shades of those once alive_

_Their eyes now dark and dull_

_Is there any humanity left in them?_

_Or of malice are they full?_

Before he could puzzle anymore, a light blue mist escaped his lips, alerting him to another fight. Even in his current condition, ignoring it was out of the question. He jumped off his bed, and forced two shimmering white halos to surround his waist and spread out, engulfing his entire being in ectoplasm. His trademark DP'd jumpsuit appeared, as well as his glowing green eyes and snowy white hair.

He looked at his hands absently, mulling over what he should do. Beating them even worse wouldn't work; trying to befriend them wouldn't work. Then his eyes perked up at an idea. It was risky, and it could come back to bite him, but if even a few ghosts actually thought about what he was going to do, then maybe it could be worth it.

"Let's try a compromise," Danny whispered to himself, and flew off to protect his city.

_A bruise upon a villain _

_Can result in all-out war_

_But a show of mercy upon them_

_Can open all new doors_

Ember had been no real challenge. Danny's mood had risen into a surprisingly good one, and even with Ember's snide comments about his scrapes, he managed to stay focused and succeed in stopping her. She was now lying on the ground before him, tired and humiliated. Her guitar rested in Danny's hands and with it a substantial amount of her power. She waited for him to take out his Thermos and suck her inside, just like every other time, but this time he just stood there looking at her.

"Well, aren't you gonna end this? Or would ya just like to rub it in?" she inquired scornfully.

"Neither," he said, and held out his hand to help her up. She looked at it like he was holding out an alien weapon, before eventually accepting it. He lifted her up and passed her the guitar back. "If you wanna get outta here before my parents show up then you better leave now."

The former pop star just gawked at him.

"You're kidding, right? You're just gonna let me go?"

"Right," Danny answered.

"Even though you know that I'm probably gonna be wreaking havoc in like a couple hours?"

"Yeah, I know," he said, turning his back and ready to fly off.

"So what's the catch?" she asked.

He halted his ascent and turned back to her. "Only one catch."

"Uh huh," she grunted, being prepared for that response.

"Whatever you stayed behind for after you died, have you gotten it yet?" he questioned.

Ember just looked at him dumbfounded. Not insulted or angry, rather surprised. That had been the last thing she had expected him to ask of her.

"When you decide on your answer, tell me; I wanna know." And with that, Danny flew off, leaving an Ember McLain behind that was so stunned that she almost didn't get away in time to avoid the Fentons.

_It's amazing how many shades of gray_

_You'll find in any town_

_Maybe one day we'll fight as one_

_If they ever come around..._

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Not to toot my own horn, but I think I did pretty well with this. Maybe I should just write poetry stories instead; they're so much easier for me to write, and since each chapter would be a different story, I wouldn't have to worry about incongruenties. Anyway, hope you liked! I loved writing this! If I do write another poem, it'll be called "Walk the Line." BUM-BUM-BAW! 


	2. Walk the Line

Hey again! Thanks to purpledog100 for reviewing my first chapter, and Ghostboy814 for adding me to your alerts list. I'm glad that some people appreciate my work. But then again, we artists must always suffer for our art. I must warn you that there are several mentions of African-American slavery from the 17 and 1800's in here, but it has to be told. Anyway, here's chapter 2!

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**He who fills his pockets with rocks of misdeeds will surely drown in the river of good fortune.**

The warden sat at his desk, mulling over all that had happened over the last year: the biggest jailbreak in decades; his being defeated twice by the same punk, both of which led to his current woes.

This Danny Phantom claimed to be a guardian of law and order. If that was true, he wouldn't have let the prisoners free when he was first incarcerated or have helped that traitor Wulf from Bullet and the other guards.

Walker walked out of his office to try to clear his head. He looked down at the prisoners, pleased at what he saw. Miserable, terrified, but now obedient punks, wary of the wrath of the warden. It was his penitentiary, not correctional facility, but penitentiary. After all, it was Walker's belief that these sinful vermin never leave his confines. There may be chaos in the rest of the Ghost Zone, but there would be order in his prison.

_There is no price for justice_

_Save the time it takes to bring_

_I will always keep the law_

_Without it, there's nothing_

Walker had always been that way, ever since his father told him, "Order and discipline, son. That's what keeps the rats in their holes." He had lived by that credo through his youth and into adulthood. Many of the townsfolk had figured he'd become the new sheriff, and even more had been willing to enforce him if he chose that path. That was another of his little talents, he was a good speaker. When he talked, people listened and he had a superb knack for getting people on his side. But sheriff wasn't the way he wanted to go, not with slaves running off from their owners' farms and plantations. If he wanted the hammer brought down, he had some hunting to do.

It didn't take Walker long to become a top-notch slave hunter. The secret was to search at night; there was no point during the day because the slaves would hide then. After sunset they came out and made their way north. They were hardly a challenge, as almost none of them were armed, and the sight of a big, white man with a gun brought them to their knees in a pinch.

_No one is above the law_

_No one will get off free_

_As long as I keep up my watch_

_My turf lawful will be_

Every now and then, someone would tell him that he must hate the slaves something mighty to bring in as many as he did. But they were wrong. The slaves, in mental and physical aspects, didn't bother Walker. As long as they stayed put and kept working right, he had no problem. But when they escaped, well, that's against the law isn't it? And it was his duty to uphold that law and bring 'em back, dead or alive.

Problem is that, slave or not, they were human, and the slaves in his area were getting wise to his methods. All it had taken was one gutsy slave with a rifle to shoot, and that was it. Walker was gone, but his work was far from done. The Ghost Zone was disarrayed, random and undisciplined. It was in serious need of justice and order, and he was just the spirit to do that. Once he got over the shock of his new form, of course.

His ghostly self was drastically different from his original body. His receding, dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes had been stricken and replaced by a bony head and empty, glowing green sockets. All skin and muscle had been forsaken for a mere skeleton. But although disturbing, Walker had to admit that he liked the alterations. For now he would be feared on sight, let alone whether or not he was armed. And to boot to his already gruesome visage, he found he could manipulate his size; able to sprout at least ten times his normal height. If criminals weren't spooked at a glance, they would be after he shot up several feet.

_Fear is the biggest lawman_

_It brings them to their knees_

_Begging me for mercy_

_Much more than that they'll need_

But that one boy threatened his eternal order with escape. He couldn't hold him here in the Ghost Zone because a human can go right through anything here. And he'd tried to make the boy's home a prison by turning the people against him, but that didn't work for long either. So what could he do now? His brain was throbbing for an answer. Walker never made exceptions to the law; that Danny Phantom would be under lock and key if it took him a lifetime, which luckily, he was now able to do.

He looked back down at the guards and inmates, now scanning his grisly charges. Pretty much all of them wore the standard GZPD uniform complete with billy club and riot shield; their helmets hiding their rotting interiors. In both body and mind, they were all but identical. Semi-muscled dunderheads who liked to cause pain and panic whenever possible.

Only one stood out, his second in command, Bullet. An aggressive, bossy and crafty sentry with a patched-over left eye, bandana-covered head, double-stubbed chin, and army camouflage slacks, hinting to a past in the military. But the truly eyebrow-raising things about Bullet were the spines that ran along his neck and the tail that hung down below his feet, both of which were slimy and scaled. Not even Walker knew what the reason was for his assistant's 'state'. Some thought he signed up for some genetic mismatching while he was an army man. Others thought it was some symbolic expression of his snake-like manner. But most put their money on birth defect.

_Justice always needs a hand_

_To bring the cause to work_

_Plus it pays to have some eyes_

_In the shades to lurk_

Walker had to go out; a good, old fashioned walk, or flight, would help him sort everything out. He told Bullet that he was in charge and then headed out of the prison

He'd just wanted to float around and stretch his legs a bit, no real direction in mind, but the longer he flew, the more he wanted some payback. And fortunately, he'd saved something for just such an occasion. When he'd posed as the quarterback at Phantom's house, he managed to swipe a little doodad from the Fenton's lab that would give him a passage back to Amity Park. Walker considered going back to the prison for back-up, but then decided against it. This was his score to settle, and this time it would be an even, one-on-one duel. He brought out the gizmo and pressed its activator, and a green, swirling vortex appeared before him.

"This time it ends, Ghost Kid," he swore and passed through the portal.

_Justice often takes its time_

_But the felon is dragged down_

_By the fact that every badge he sees_

_Is just waiting for his next round_

It didn't take Walker long to find Danny. He saw him fighting Technus in the park, and landed on the grass, careful not to enter the boy's ghost sensing range. He was close enough to see and hear them and arrived just in time to see Technus be sucked into the Thermos.

"This isn't over, child! I'll be back!" Technus warned before disappearing into the metal cylinder.

"Nice job, Danny," the Goth girl complimented.

"Yeah, dude, but you know you coulda dragged the fight over town and gotten some great PR out of it," the bereted boy suggested.

"Yeah, but then people would be in the way watching and they'd get hurt," Danny said, changing back to human.

"Guess you're right," the bereted one agreed.

"Besides, Tuck, it's not about fame, it's about justice," Danny declared, his tone completely serious. "Now let's head to the Nasty Burger; I'm starved!"

"Amen to that, dude!"

The trio headed off, each completely unaware that they were being watched. Walker shook his head, half out of disbelief and half out of reluctant admiration. He brought out the device and re-opened the portal to the Ghost Zone. But before going back, he looked at the black-haired boy walking away and smiled.

"I am gonna get you yet, kid. But for today, you're free. Someone needs to bring justice here, and for now, that someone's you."

_Justice has so many hues_

_It's impossible to tell apart_

_In worlds where it is needed_

_You learn who has a heart_

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And that's Walker's story! The next may take a while longer to get up because I don't know which character I'm gonna do yet. Please R&R! I Looove feedback!


	3. Predator's Grudge

Hey everybody! Thanks to Samantha-Girl Scout and Ghostboy814 for reviewing the previous chapter and NYCbound for his recent review of Chapter 1. And to any who read this chapter, please review; you just have to press a little button down there. And I can promise a personal response to every reviewer!

Anyway, bad news is that this'll be my last chap for a while until I see some new eps and get reinspired. I just feel that I don't know any other characters well enough to write over 1000 words about 'em! All right, enjoy!

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**He who hunts for amusement will soon find himself to be the prey.**

The hunter was in his lair, seated against a tree, staring at another tree across from him where he'd posted a picture of his present quarry. A teenage boy that was both human and ghost, and had been plaguing him for months. He emptied one of his munitions banks from his armor; gathered some darts and began tossing them at the poster. The first hit struck the 2D Phantom square on the end of the nose.

"Huh, bull's-eye," he muttered, smirking. Though a second later, he realized that he had no reason to be praising himself.

Any fool could hit a still, inanimate target, and that seemed to be all he could hit nowadays. His failures to the Ghost Boy had been affecting his morale and hunter's spirit, for lack of a better phrase, and he was constantly losing more and more prey the longer he went on with the child's life mocking him.

He was Skulker: Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter and Tracker; Collector of All Beings Rare and Dangerous. What had happened to him? His sole purpose in being a ghost and staying in the realm of post-life was to hunt down and/or slaughter and stuff all he deemed worthy of his pursuit. With that love fading, what reason was there for him to remain on this plain?

One who only hunts for sport

Always kills more than the one

They never see how much is lost

For their own ceaseless fun

Everyone, living or dead, knew him to be the hunter. They had other names for him too, of course: Obsessor; Monster; Murderer; Psychopath. They didn't see it as he did. They all thought it was a game to him, but it was more than that. It was a way of life, or afterlife, but who really keeps that straight?

"If only they knew," he murmured, tossing another dart and nailing Danny's left eye. "They have no idea what happened, not like I'd really want them to."

The last thing he needed was pity. But still...after all this time it'd be nice to talk to someone about it. After her betrayal he had abandoned any and all hope of friendship or love.

A hunter wants something more

Some sense of being complete

The adrenaline or bloodlust

That turns innocents to meat

He had been a small man, not tiny, but still rather small compared to the other men of his land. His life had been during the early Thirteenth century, when science and technology was sparse and the sword and sorcery thrived. Being a petite man, he'd always had something to prove; as much to others as to himself. He became skilled with the bow; any creature caught unawares would quickly be stricken of life. But as time passed, he felt lacking; he yearned to kill his prey up close and personal and not just when his quarry was defenseless. Then he met her and everything changed.

She was gorgeous, strong and had a love of the hunt that possibly challenged his own. He asked, well, begged her to teach him the ways of combat and she eventually agreed. She taught him the proper use of a blade and how to use his smaller, nimble body to his advantage. In a matter of months, they were the greatest hunters in the area. All game, bounties and outlaws belonged to them. And the longer they worked together, the more he came to realize that he was in love with her. The way she darted around was like poetry in motion; her strikes like the most bittersweet embraces. As much as he hated having a weakness, he couldn't deny this one. But like any man head over heels in love, he was oblivious to fact.

The fact was that his tutor held none of the same feelings for him. She had already come to the conclusion that men were too weak and succumbed to easily to their hearts. Her only love was the hunt and its ample rewards.

A hunter's heart is only won

By another of the kind

But the former should beware his love

As his pelt is on her mind

Of course, his blind infatuation only lasted for so long. The other hunters and warriors were tired of losing their game to this pair, so they decided that it had to end. They watched the actions of the two, and came up with a plan. They dragged his crush aside one evening, and offered to pay her a hefty price for the death of the Skulker.

A small fortune with a prey almost as talented as she was? How could she refuse? They were in the woods a night later, hunting a noble stag, when she attacked him. It had been easier than she'd thought; he'd never seen it coming.

"Why?" he had pleaded of her in anguish. "Why?"

She gazed down at him and uttered the last words he heard in his life, "Because a hunter is nothing without her prey..."

This wasn't his end; NEVER! His soul refused to fade; he had to have his revenge against the traitor. He found a way back to the mortal world and discovered that he could overshadow not only people, but objects, as well. He inhabited the strongest suit of armor he could find and set out to settle his score.

She was, unlike him, prepared to fight before her demise. She didn't recognize him, coated in the armor, until he spoke, "While a hunter is nothing without his prey, the prey will always be less!" He then phased through her sword and stabbed her. She didn't even have time to speak. Her life was over, and her soul was crossed to the other side, leaving him alone, save for his purpose to continue the hunt.

When one hunts for revenge

Their work cannot be done

They will keep on for eternity

Until their cycle is outrun

The hunt was all he had left, and always would be. As time flew by, he upgraded his armor and weapons, not even noticing his true ghostly form was growing smaller and smaller. It wasn't until his most recent evolution that he saw what he'd been reduced to: a tiny, frog-like mite dependent on an advanced suit. But the strange thing was, though his size had bothered him in life, it no longer mattered in death. What did a shrimpy body mean when he was the greatest of all predators? Lesser beings still trembled before him after hundreds of years, pelts and severed heads still adorned his floor and walls. If the Ghost Boy was dragging him down, then it was time to take it up a notch.

Fear lends wings unto the feet

As the prey runs for its life

The hunter doesn't care so much

As it's only minor strife

Once again he lay before Danny Phantom, battered and beaten. The boy took out his Thermos and aimed it at Skulker.

"Seriously, dude. You'd have to get up pretty early to put me down," the child said.

"I can wait, child; I refuse to let up. Only one ever succeeded over me and she paid the ultimate price," Skulker told.

Not wanting to delve any further into Skulker's speech, Danny raised the Thermos and sucked him back into the Ghost Zone. The mechanical specter flew back to his lair and landed back at his spot with the trees and poster. He took out one last dart and threw it at Danny's paper forehead.

"I can wait, child. I can wait..."

Patience is the key

Until the trap is sprung

A hasty action to the prey

Leaves you cursing at your gun

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And that's it for now. If you really want a new chapter soon, then e-mail and tell them to get new DP eps up here in Canada. They still haven't shown anything past or including "Reign Storm" yet, except for "Identity Crisis". Well, R&R! 


	4. A Duty Never Has Regrets

_MR- Hi again! I know I said that I cancelled this, but I've got some new ideas, so I'm just gonna leave WoaGM open for further progress, until I really do run out of ideas. And I should be seeing TUE in about two weeks, so that should give me some ideas._

_Thanks to PhantomSky, ilovethestorys, Moocow1452, Nobody is Somebody and WingsOfMorphius for reviewing at my last update. Always love the attention!_

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What's right isn't always popular and what's popular isn't always right.

**-**_Howard Cosell_

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They probably call me a vigilante. I mean, I'm not licensed and official like the Fentons. As far as anyone's concerned, I'm probably just some joyriding party girl looking for kicks. Fine by me; they can think what they want. I stopped caring what other people thought after my backstabbing 'friends' dumped me. But that's ancient history now. Because now I'm smart enough to tell the difference between who people really are and who they pretend to be. Though with ghosts, it's usually pretty simple. Ghost attacks; ghost acts terrifying; ghost gets their butt handed to them and then shows up again a week or two later. Basic ghostly behavior. He always avoids those patterns though, and that's what confuses me.

I just don't get him. He flies in with his pet; ruins my life and then tries to act all friendly. Doesn't matter, really. I don't know what he's up to, but I'll figure it out, and when I do, he's going down for good. Then there'll be no more mystery, no more questions, no more 'what if''s; he'll be gone and then maybe I can move on with my life. Or not. After all, Mr. Masters told me once that people who hunt them at our level rarely give up after one main target. And I guess...I feel that way, too.

_I cannot lose my focus_

_I must always press on_

_The one that comes and haunts me_

_Will not do so for long..._

I guess he worries me because he's one of the more revolutionary ghosts. You know, the ones who're not only powerful enough to change the world, but have the set mind to do so. Phantom; that Plasmius ghost I've seen with him; Technus; Ember; the Fright Knight and Pariah Dark. Ghosts like them are dangerous, because in a ghost's mind, power is all that matters, and unlike the others, they know what they're doing.

The others are relics. Box Ghost, Spectra, and even Skulker are outdated and obsolete. They'll never amount to any true threat because they don't think big picture. They see only their twisted, post-living goals and do nothing but try to complete them. As much as I hate to compare them to me and other humans, it's true; they're just people who got sucked in too far. No named, self-absorbed whack jobs that don't even know why they're fighting and have no idea what they'll do after they get what they want, if they ever do. They'll never do anything of any importance; they can't see the real world anymore. They'll be the first to go; the first ones and the easiest obstacles to pick off so I can get to the big ones.

_Every one of them's a menace_

_That won't stop until they win_

_Their anger and their past lives_

_Blind them to the pain of men_

They have their home; I've seen it, the Ghost Zone, so why don't they just stay there? Is it a 'grass is greener on the other side' bit, or do they just wanna cause pain to make up for the crummy lives they went through? After all, who'd want to willingly be a ghost? There'd be too many questions and too many bad memories. And I find it surprising that some of them could put up with that. After all, they couldn't have been very strong in life if they thought they needed another one. Mind you, some might have unfinished business to deal with here. But the only ghost I've met who would fit that description would be Phantom. What could he have done, or not done, to feel that he had to risk himself to 'help' others? Did he kill someone in his past life and was trying to redeem himself, like maybe some divine spirit wasn't about to let him pass on without making up for it. Or did he lose someone in his life before he died, that there was someone he wasn't able to save and he held himself responsible...But I'm getting off track here. You can't think of your enemy as anything more than your enemy or you'll leave yourself open to pain.

_What makes him so different _

_From the others of his kind? _

_What makes him risk all he has? _

_Whatever reason, I will find_

Makes me glad I have Danny to bring me up when I feel down. Strange guy, definitely, always running off somewhere and acting weird. Runs in his family, I guess. But there's way more to him than that, and way more than what you see on the outside. He's much smarter than you give him credit for, and he has a way of making you feel worthwhile and important when you feel lousy and beaten. He's very determined, too, though it's disguised pretty well through his laid-back attitude. I guess the only thing that you can really get from him on a first impression are his eyes. They're just so deep and thorough, but mixed pretty nicely with his naïveté. There's just this thing about him that's so appealing, but you really have to dig and know him to find it.

His friends don't trust me though, and to a certain extent, I can understand that. With my lifestyle, Danny would be the ideal target for one of those spectral nut-cases to get me in a corner. And I could never live with myself if he got hurt because of what I do. That, and that only, would be the only reason I'd ever give up ghost-hunting. But they don't know about my job, do they? Maybe, but with Sam, I don't think she's worried about Danny getting in trouble, not with ghosts, anyway. But hey, I warned her to make a move.

_I have to watch those close to me _

_I will not let them hurt _

_I've worked too hard to save them _

_To let their bodies fall to dirt_

The world was fine before all these spooks showed up. The only good thing they ever did was show me the life that I should be living. But no matter who or what the ghost is, it'll never change anything. Their pasts, their pain, their lost lives and loves are nothing but excuses now. And I'll waste Phantom and a billion like him before I let them overpower my town. It's my duty now, and it always will be, no matter the cost. No self-pity. No hesitating. No regrets...

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So how'd you like it? It's pretty obvious that this is Valerie, right? This was really a spur of the moment thing so it may not be too well written, but, hey, maybe I'm wrong! Let me know!_


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